Slave
by braintumorseibutsusen
Summary: Harry Potter and Gundam Wing AC crossover, inspired by Ammie Hawk's Shattered Pawn and Hades27's A Slave's Freedom. Having been a slave for most of his life, Harry finds himself thrust from his calm servitude into a world where price is everything.
1. Chapter 1

Fanfiction inspired by Ammie Hawk's _Shattered Pawn_ and Hades27's _A Slave's Freedom_

_Some of the characters are OOC._

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and Gundam Wing AC is probably owned by Kōichi Tokita. _

The expanse of blue sky from the window of the shuttle from Earth up to the Colonies was the most amount of sky that Harry had seen in his entire life. Having been a slave for all of his teenage life, the only sky he really remembered was when was first bought by his previous Master seven years ago and the sky had been dark and raining down in sheets then. This sky, the blue expanse that Harry imagined the ocean to look like, was something so amazing that Harry had never even imaged it in his dreams. Fluffy pink and yellow colored clouds stretched out across the line where Earth met the edge of space and soon enough, the only thing that Harry could see was the dark black of space up ahead.

Softly sighing in disappointment, he leaned the side of his head against the window and pulled the blanket over his chest where it had fallen tangled over his arm. Harry and the rest of the slaves that had been attached to his Master's household were on the shuttle to the space transfer station that had been built in the years after the war. From there, they were to be sold as assets from his Master's household and the money from their sale given to the bank in help with his former Master's incredible debt. How the 98-year-old man had been able to avoid paying his taxes for the last seventy years Harry would never know. It was actually quite the bit of luck that the slaves were being sold away- any of his Master's sons or grandsons could have taken control of the household and that would have been a disaster, not that it hadn't been that way basically the last couple of years. Harry shivered, snuggling as much as he could under the blanket. No, when his Master had started going senile and his sons and grandsons had come to take over the house- that had been the worst time of his life. He glanced around at the couple of other slaves he could see. Yes, it was entirely luck that none of them would ever be in the service of the Smither Family.

Closing his eyes as the lights dimmed in the shuttle, he could hear the gentle hum of the engines and the whispered murmurs of the other slaves. Harry had been one of the first slaves ever in the Earth sphere, shown to the world by the black collar that adorned him as a strip of black metal skin at his collar bone. The first slaves had basically been branded- the skin around their necks had been cut off and a metal collar made especially to fuse with the leftover muscle of the neck was attached, creating a slave collar inset in skin. It was originally used to prevent slaves from ever finding a way out of their collar to freedom, but when they realized that gundanium metal was never going to come off unless the Master consented, the construction of the collars became looser. The newer ones were like a traditional collar, circling the neck with a clasp in the back that snapped open when the slave's end of captivity was reached.

Harry would never be free. It had taken him three years of waking up every day to agonizing and crushing depression to finally realize that whoever had branded him had not wanted him to be free. His Master had been nice, if old and senile, but he had always been treated as a slave and he always would. The crushing weight of the idea of eternal slavery really wasn't present anymore, just the ever present numbness of this fact. It placed him at a different place among his fellow slaves, just a step above. None of them had the branded collars, only those light-weight ones that marked them as temporarily enslaved. _They_ would be free and only knew of slavery for a little while- maybe five or ten years.

Harry had envied them once. Now he stood cool and distant and they kept their distance, unable and unwilling to interact with him. It was almost comical because as the slave that had been attached to the Smither household, he had previously had jurisdiction over all of them. He had seen many slaves come and go as their time dictated and none of them had wanted a repeat experience so he had never seen them again with collars. Likely, after the selling, he would never see any of them again, with or without collars. At most, some of them might be a slave for the next fifteen years if they didn't have a repeat offense and then they would be on their free way. Harry snuggled deeper into the shuttle's cushioned seats. No, he didn't really envy them anymore. They just went about their lives waiting for the day they would be free and never taking in the now. Harry only ever had the now. Only the now.

He hoped that his new Master would be kinder than those who had owned him the past couple of years. Anyone would be better than them.

* * *

The transfer station was bigger than the last time that Harry had been here. He wasn't sure why that was, having come here when he was a mere eleven years old, but it seemed bigger. Wider or more spacious somehow, he thought. However, there were definitely a _lot_ more people than the last time he was here as he was pushed into a line at the back of the stage, staring at all the crowd that stared back at them.

As soon as the transport shuttle had landed, they had been taken in a line through the crowd of shops and businesses that lined the slave block. Sometimes, Harry had heard, they keep the slaves at the auction stage for the night if the crowd isn't large enough to attract a large enough sum for the slaves being bought. This wasn't going to be the case today and as soon as they had reached the stage, they had been lined up across the stage in rows, those with the collars with the least time remaining at the front, those with branded collars at the back; from least expensive to most expensive. Harry was only in a row with two others with branded collars, both of whom looked to be over thirty years old and hardened from prison.

It had been exactly the reason of full prisons that had sparked the first interest in slaves and collars. Tested on prison inmates first, the system was proved economically viable enough for use on the rest of the prisons. As they were going through a war at the time, the amount of slaves into the future weren't going to be a problem. However, the number of those original collars, the Branded, only was in the hundreds, not the thousands or ten-thousands that the other collars numbered. Harry didn't need to look at the faces of the other two Branded, they were the same as he was. Harry had actually met several other Branded in his short life, but he had never been acknowledged by any of them, just as he never acknowledged them. Life was long enough, none of them needed to be reminded of their place.

Harry watched as those that had been part of the Smither household were pulled out of line by the dozens of slavers when their row moved up as various Master's bought them. The technology of the slave system here was more advanced than even seven years ago. Every slave was entered into the slavers database as soon as they entered the area as their collar was scanned by the various towers that existed all over Earth and the colonies. Those attending the auction were allowed to tap into that database through whatever source of technology they were using and determine who they wanted to buy when the row came up. Harry knew that many of those potential Masters had seen him and the other two Branded, but the Masters weren't allowed to access Harry and the other two's information until their row came up.

It was strange, Harry thought as the next row stepped forward to be bought, how quiet it actually was. There were people talking as they stood below the stage and squabbled over various things as the shops that lined the slave market hadn't closed at the start of the auction, but he had always remembered the slavers yelling out names and prices and attributes to each slave as they went up. The silence to the buying and selling of humans was something almost startling. The practice had become so commonplace that it seemed like even the slavers themselves had become as numb as him.

As the row in front of them moved off, those not sold to be brought back again tomorrow or bought offline in the pens, Harry and the other two instinctively stepped forward. He could see all the faces blending into each other, the tops of their heads like some sort of multi-colored sea of grass springing up from a similar sea of eyes and noses. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a rotating replica of him and the other two on the side screens, counting out statistics and prices as those who wanted a forever-slave bid without remorse on three lives and perpetual obedience.

The other two were eventually led off as their sale price was reached, but Harry stood there for a longer period of time trying to ignore as the side price kept escalating, numbers being replaced by each other so fast that Harry could hardly keep track of them. He knew that at eighteen, having been a slave already for seven years and going to be one for a while more, he was worth a lot of money. The first time he had been sold, he had been young enough that he was not allowed by law to be auctioned off on stage and had been bought by a wealthy man at the rich sum of fifteen thousand credits. If Harry had been calculating right, he had just surpassed that amount about a minute ago.

The number wasn't important, but the owner was. Many people started to disperse as they realized that this might go on for a while. Harry didn't actively try to search for his new Master (if the bidding ever stopped), but his eyes drifted blankly over those left watching the stage or intently scanning their electronic devices. How many of them left actually bidding on him was unknown, but he figured at least two or three of them considering how rapidly the counter was still increasing. At least one of the bidders was a group of people in the back shaded under a variety of black umbrellas.

The slavers next to him shifted nervously as the numbers continued to increase, at least forty times as much as he was originally sold for. Some of those that had left had decided to return and the sound of people talking louder and louder drifted up to him through the fog he found himself in. Surely, Harry thought, I'm not worth as much as they're spending. There must be something else going on here that's causing this spike. Harry figured that those muttering around the stage also thought there was something else going on here and eyed him speculatively. He stared coolly back at them until they looked away, unnerved by the blank gaze. It wasn't every day that a slave could stare back at someone and not be reprimanded for it.

All of a sudden there was a significant increase in the sound from everyone around the stage and even a few cries of outrage. The slaver next to him who had faced the board the entire time sucked in a breath. Harry was almost afraid to look. His eyes betrayed him as they darted to the side for a split second as he was led off the stage, but he caught the number. Fifteen million credits. A _thousand_ times he was bought for merely seven years ago. Harry hadn't felt this much shock since he had first been branded and shivered involuntarily. There was something beyond the scope of simply owning a slave that had caused his price to be that much. Harry didn't want to know how much they'd take it out on him. Maybe his death would come early from this new Master.

The slaver house attached to the side of the stage wasn't very big, just large enough to accommodate the number of slaves they normally received and a couple tellers who made sure the money went through and the new Master understood the contract presented upon them through their new slave. Usually this was taken care of through technology, but sometimes there was a new Master who had never before owned a slave and they had to go through this process manually.

However, as soon as Harry stepped inside led along by two slavers, he knew that whoever had bought him, _at such a price_, had owned slaves before. All of them were waiting, the slavers standing off to the side awkwardly as if in the presence of someone who needed to be waited on. One of the men was tall and dark skinned with a beard that Harry before didn't know could exist on a human. He carried an umbrella under his arm and a shorter, straight-backed blonde man stood next to him, facing away and talking quietly into his phone. Harry's eyes drifted over the rest assembled, all of them in protective stances around the younger blonde man, hands on their sidearm.

The head slaver stood between Harry and the dark skinned man. They stood in silence for a minute before the blonde shut his phone with a snap and turned back around. Light blue eyes and fair features caught his eye for a second before he bowed his head. If anything, Harry wasn't going to be rude to the man who owned him many lifetimes over, even if it was the last thing he did. For all the money that he was bought for, Harry had never felt more worthless in his entire life.

"Mr. Winter," the slaver started, "as the transaction is complete and the papers are in order, you're free to take your purchase with you." He shifted nervously for a second and Harry watched the shake in the man's knees grow. "Due to the amount paid for it and potential hard feelings from the other bidders, may I have you and your men escorted to the port-." The head slaver was cut off and there was silence for a second. Harry didn't dare lift his head up to see what was going on, and just when Harry thought the head slaver might pee himself, a voice spoke out.

"Please leave us." Harry heard the head slaver quickly bow and round up his employees until it was just Master, his entourage, and the slave.

As drilled into his head by his lifetime as a slave, Harry dropped to his knees, placed his hands in a triangle shape on the floor and bent his back and placed his forehead below his triangle. It was all done in a single smooth motion before he could offend Master, and Harry could feel the stillness that his actions had place in the company of Master.

There was a harsh whisper that Harry didn't quite make out before there was a rumble from who Harry could only assume to be the tall man. "Your Master greets his slave. You will swear allegiance to him through the Vow now."

There was another harsh whisper, and Harry waited a second to see if there was a name forthcoming, as there should have been, but there wasn't. Was he to Vow to everyone here? With no name, there was nothing to bind him to his new Master; it wouldn't reset the branded collar.

"Slave," the deep voice came again, impatient this time, and a harsh whisper from the other, maybe his blonde Master. Harry realized dimly in the back of his mind that the whisper was in a language he didn't know. Then there was suddenly someone kneeling next to him and a hand on the back of his neck where his branded collar met the top of his shirt and even though Harry had been trained not to flinch, there was a minute twitch under the hand that his Master surely noticed.

"Now you will say the Vow," intoned the deep voice, and the ritual started. His Master's burning hand on the back of his neck, and the cold concrete under his body, words tumbled out of his mouth as if pulled from his very soul in a language he didn't know and had never known but had always known the words to. There was a deep hollow in the center of his chest spread as the sibilant sounds dripped from his lips in tune with the blood that suddenly dripped from his nose onto the floor until it was hard for Harry to breathe. A hand reached for the blood and then the ritual was over and Harry could breathe again.

Master's hand left his neck and Harry struggled to catch his breath. There was a click of boots as someone walked swiftly away and it was almost five minutes before his breathing returned to normal. There was still blood dripping on the floor from his nose, but he knew that it was a matter of time before it stopped. A hand gripped his upper arm and pulled him to his feet. Harry kept his gaze on the floor, but could see the bodies standing around him, but not the one of his Master. That must have been the sound of someone walking away.

"Now we can go," came the rumble voice. A large hand lifted up his head and a cloth was dabbed against his nose, wiping off the blood. Harry kept his eyes lowered and there was a sigh before he was handed the cloth and was marched off towards the entrance.

Harry wondered what was going to happen now. He now had a Master who seemingly didn't want him and then there was his Master's large protector who was harsh one minute and kind the next. And he still didn't know what was going on with his purchase. He cursed his former, dead Master in his head for a second before they stepped into the light. Damn that old man for dying. And damn himself for killing the old bastard.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter Two: And the Cracks Begin to Show

"He did what? Quat, him- _him of all people_- bought a slave?" Duo exclaimed over the vidmod, his mouth wide open in shock. Heero stared coolly back at his friend.

"We have a lead in breaking these collars and the slave he bought might be the final clue into freeing you and Wufei," Heero replied, glancing off screen into the front of the transporter where Quatre sat at the helm. After Quatre had stormed off in a rage after the Vowing ritual, which could only be broken by sale of the slave or death or the Master, Heero had sent some of the others to follow the Winner heir while he kept an eye on the slave.

Having never seen a Vowing ceremony before, he'd been slightly surprised at the strange language that had come out of the slave's mouth and the blood that had been spilled. Heero had been even more surprised when Quatre had unconsciously touched the blood and a spark had disappeared from the branded collar into Quatre. The newer models of collar didn't function like that, just the allegiance and the contract with the new master. He supposed that the reason this was different was because the branded collar was actually a part of the slave, connected into the nerves of his neck and brain. Heero briefly realized the ingenuity of having the collar branded into the neck- it was the set of nerves that connected both the heart and the brain, being able to shut down both if the Master wanted it to. Remarkable, really, how ingeniously cruel people could be.

"That still doesn't mean he had to buy the slave! After what happened to Wufei and me…" Duo paused for a moment, fingers playing with the bottom of his braid, his face dark for a second with remembrance. Heero frowned. The other man had never told him what exactly had happened during the week that he'd been captured and it weighed constantly on his mind. Whatever they had done to his friend, as well as putting a collar on him had changed the other man from someone happy and always joking into just a shadow of his former self.

Duo looked up, his eyes blazing. "It's just not right. After what Wufei and I went through and then Quatre is going to do the _same thing-_" Heero and Duo's heads jerked to the right as the door to the cockpit slammed shut. Heero turned back toward the vidmod and quirked and eyebrow at the perturbed look on Duo's face.

"You should know better than to think that Winner is going to do anything to the slave. I'm not sure what his plans are, but out of all of us, _he_ is the one most likely to not abuse the power over another human being." At Duo's offended look, Heero just raised his eyebrow again and Duo looked away with a pout, still playing with the end of his braid. There was something very disturbing about seeing his friend in such a vulnerable state. While Heero had most certainly not killed Duo's former Master even when he had killed everyone else in the compound that had held Duo, the man was trapped within the confines of the black circle of gundanium. Duo didn't know who had collared him and they probably would never find out. Neither Duo nor Wufei could go out because they had not been able to Vow allegiance to any other. However, even with the collar no one saw the two former Gundam pilots as less than what they were- free men trapped within a contract of enforced obedience.

Quatre's new slave and Duo and Wufei's circumstances were different and Duo knew that. Even if at the moment Duo didn't know that the slave was one of the Branded or that he was their age and probably had been a slave since the collars had come into existence almost eight years ago, Duo knew that they were different. It was just this strange uncertainty in his own future that had him acting like this. Adding to the fact that Heero and Quatre had told neither Duo nor Wufei of the new development in freeing them fueled the flame. It was his decision to not tell them and whether or not it paid off in the end was something still to be determined.

"So… what's the slave's name?" Duo asked and Heero stared back blankly. It was silent for a second and then Duo burst, his anger focusing on Heero. "You mean you didn't even ask their name? And here I thought that Quat was doing wrong by him!"

Heero quickly shut off the vidmod before Duo could start a long rant. There was a good chance that the slave would be with them for the rest of their life because of the slave's status as a Branded and because of all of their unwillingness to break apart from the other, so why _hadn't_ he run a background check on this person yet? _Because he's not a threat, having sworn the Vow with his blood _came a thought from the back of Heero's mind and that was it. While the slave might have been a threat in the seconds before saying the Vow, because they had avoided naming the Master, Quatre, at the beginning of the Vow, there had been little threat. And after the Vow they're had been none.

The slave as a person once again became relatively unimportant and Heero stood to go into the cockpit to attempt to make right with the Winner heir. Heero thought it prudent not to have the other man mad at him when they landed.

* * *

Even though Harry had flown in a transporter not even half a day ago and had slept comfortably in that previous trip, he couldn't find any place or position that felt comfortable. While he wasn't normally a fidgety person, as he usually had to stay absolutely still for a long period of time with his former Master, there was something about this seat and the three next to it that were very uncomfortable. He and his Master's entourage had entered the transport without incident and Harry hadn't even seen his new Master before they took off. He had been pushed into one of the many seats that lined the walls of the main room of the transport before everyone else had disappeared to other parts of the ship.

Harry supposed that it was lucky for the others that they considered him a zero threat- not even threat enough to leave a guard or someone else with him in the room. The idea of him being no threat to his Master was true in part, but a zero threat entirely? While Harry hadn't been trained in the Gundam mobile suits like those they claimed to be hero's of the last war, nor had he had much combat experience outside of training, there was a reason his Master had bought him at such a young age. He had been the perfect age to train as a bodyguard and assassin if need be. His former Master, for all of his old-age and senile personality, had been formerly one of the most feared men in the Earth Sphere- or so the old man would always say. Harry didn't know the validity of those statements, nor did he really care to find out at the time. His duty had been to his Master and if his Master thought that a legion of ninjas were after him to steal his blueberries, who was Harry to question such a statement? There had been no question about it- a slave's duty was to his Master, no matter the circumstances. Harry rubbed at his eyes tiredly. No matter the circumstances.

It was five hours before they reached their destination and Harry had slept restlessly curled against the window, his mind plagued with memories of the last seven years. During that time, no one came back and even when they landed, Harry wondered if he'd been forgotten about. _But that's pretty much impossible,_ his mind reminded him, _with the amount of money your service is worth to this Master._ So, they had landed and Harry rested restlessly against the window still, his eyes heavy with half-rested fatigue and waited.

It was maybe an hour after they had landed that the door slid open. Harry stood fluidly and at the glimpse of a shock of light hair knelt again on the floor. There was a shuttered step to his Master's walk, but the boots came to a final resting place in front of him. "Please stand," said Master's quiet voice and Harry rose gracefully, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. In his peripheral vision, Harry could see to his surprise that Master was shorter than him. From the way Master had stood in the slaver lot, he'd have thought the other man was at least a foot _taller_ than him, not the other way around.

A hand came into his vision and lifted his head, and Harry caught his second glimpse of Master before his eyes again were focused on somewhere other than his Master, namely over his shoulder. He could see now that his Master was very petite, light blonde hair, light blue eyes, light skin- the exact opposite of himself. As it should be. A marked difference between him and his Master made it easier for the connections to be formed in Harry's mind concerning his new Master.

Harry could see Master searching his face, what for he didn't know. Master sighed and then dropped his scorching hand to his side. "May I ask your name?"

Harry almost startled, blinking his eyes. He had assumed that his Master would give him a new name, as his old Master and sons and grandsons had done before. He had been called many things in his life, but… "This slave was called Harry once, Master. Before its branding."

"How old were you at the branding, Harry?"

Harry twitched at his name. "Eleven, Master."

His Master stilled, whether at the name or the age he was when he was branded, but pushed on. "And how old are you now, Harry?"

Again the name thing. Every time his Master said his name, it was as if a scar in his brain was being itched. It was an uncomfortable feeling. "To this slave's knowledge, it is eighteen as of last month, Master."

His Master made a humming noise deep in his throat, as if that's what he expected, but as if the answer was still unwanted. The hands came up again and tilted his face back and forth. "Open your mouth," came the request and Harry acquiesced. White teeth, many of them sharper than the normal set on a human, gleamed out of his mouth and Harry felt a finger tap the bottom of one of his sharper teeth before pulling away again. Harry shut his mouth.

"Sharp teeth you have there," his Master quipped with a slight grin and Harry only nodded. "Did your previous Master have your teeth filed sharp like that?"

Harry shook his head. "For as long as this slave can remember, it has always had teeth like this."

Master made a sharper sound Harry interpreted as shock and then suddenly the door slid open again. A tall, wiry man stepped through the door, his hand on his sidearm and a scowl on his face. "Winner," he seemed to scold, "You were supposed to bring the slave five minutes ago. The car is ready."

His Master snapped his head sharply to the right. "Yui, you don't have the right to dictate anything at this moment." The other man looked ready to retort before another body stepped into the room. Taller than the first man with more of relaxed air, the other man scanned the surroundings with a calm look. His Master relaxed and Harry himself relaxed the tension that had grown since _Yui _had stepped into the room. He had been ready to defend, _kill_, this master against the first man before the second taller man had walked in the door. With the way the first man's eyes rested on him, he had known.

"Trowa!" his Master exclaimed, rushing to hug the very tall man. The one visible eye able to seen on the new man closed in happiness as they hugged each other and started chatting excitedly (or at least Harry's Master's excited chatter reached him, he wasn't sure the taller man, Trowa, had said a word yet.) Harry and the other man continued to size the other up, until Harry realized what he was doing and bowed his head in submission. If the first man, _Yui_, proved to be a threat to his Master, Harry would kill the other man. It would be without thought to the other mans state as a warrior and without thought to his own wellbeing because all that mattered was his Master's safety. He would defend the man who had bought his obedience at such a price.

* * *

Heero's eyes narrowed at the man who had turned from submissive slave into warrior and back again just as fast. Though he'd originally thought the other had shown no threat, he may have to reassess that thought.

"Harry!" Quatre called from where he had followed Trowa out and the slave followed the sound of his Master's voice to out of the cargo hold. Heero's eyes tracked the slave as he crossed the room and walked through the doorway, memorizing the way the slave walked. There hadn't been anything in the slave's graceful glide to suggest he was anything but submissive and entirely under his Master's will, but Heero knew what he'd seen. The stance of a seasoned warrior was firm in his mind and Heero was determined to find out exactly what this slave knew. No one was to be around his family unless he knew exactly what they could do.

Following behind at a more sedate pace, Heero made sure there no more sudden surprises as they made their way to the car and the next destination, one of the Winner mansions on L2. Quatre chatted happily with Trowa and the slave, _taller than Quatre's smaller stature by at least a third meter,_ Heero thought, followed at least two feet behind. When Heero was acting as bodyguard to the Winner heir at various functions, his own pace was about the same- far enough away to not hover but close enough to defend at a milliseconds notice. Although Heero had never really observed the practices of slaves, he thought that it was unlikely that they acted so defensive towards their Master.

The car was already geared up and ready to go with the Maganac Rashid in the driver's seat. Heero nodded to the large dark man and slammed the door shut, sealing the five of them within the confines of the vehicle. Heero noted the distinct lack of reaction to his slamming the door, and Quatre shot him a glare anyway. Heero resisted the urge to rub at his eyes or glare back at his blonde friend. Didn't he realize that Heero was just trying to protect him from this unknown? As far as Heero was concerned, the only reason that the slave was with them in the first place and not shipped to some laboratory back on Earth was because both of them were eager to try and free their friends. The only way they could do that was to have the slave with them.

As soon as they were through with the slave, whether their plan worked or not, Heero would convince Quatre to get rid of it or have it shipped somewhere else. The car revved down the road, weaving in and out of what little traffic there was this early in the morning. Heero stared at Quatre out of the corner of his eye. While others had called him emotionally stilted, even Heero had seen how pained Quatre had been when he had set the final price for the slave, as if he hadn't truly wanted or believed he would be able to buy it. Quatre had sworn never to buy a slave, dedicating the last year to trying to free his friends, but then Heero had found some evidence that might help Duo and Wufei and had convinced Quatre to buy it. Quatre tried to hide the choking despair of owning a slave and although neither Barton nor Rashid had commented on it, they all knew how affected the blonde was.

Heero nodded to himself and leaned back in the seat, still watching both Quatre and the slave, _who wasn't a slave._ Yes. He was decided- as soon as it was determined what could be done for Maxwell and Chang, the slave was gone.

* * *

_Next chapter: The reveal. _


End file.
